


We Build a Treehouse

by sarcasmandagun



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-25 05:59:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9806279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasmandagun/pseuds/sarcasmandagun
Summary: A series of MSR vignettes in the style of the musical The Last Five Years. Each chapter is named after a song in the musical. Scully’s POV is in reverse chronological order, Mulder’s is chronological.





	1. Still Hurting

The house is too quiet. It’s been that way for nearly a year, but this is a different kind of silence, kind that seeps into my bones.

I hear a creak somewhere, and hope that maybe it’s a sign. That maybe, just maybe, he’ll walk into the bedroom and lift me into his arms and I won’t have to do this.

I hold my breath, waiting.

Nothing. Must have been a draft.

Slowly, I walk down the creaky staircase. I pause again at the bottom, hoping that all of my movement over the last hour will have triggered something - anything - inside of him. 

Still nothing.

I take my time bringing my suitcase to the car, reliving the warm memories of this home that now seem distant. All of the times dinner making turned into love making, lounging on the couch piled under blankets on a snowy morning. Even the memory of comforting each other on dark days is fond now. Although one or both of us could be sobbing, at least there was emotion. At least there was love.

And there still is love. There has to be. 

But I think of the recent memories, and know that I have to do this. Mulder, unshaven and unshowered, not speaking for weeks. Coming home to a kitchen full of empty beer bottles and nothing else. Listening to him typing through thin walls while I silently cry myself to sleep.

I have to run away. To save him, to save us both. It’s not simple, but it’s right.

I take a deep breath before walking outside. The car is full of the things that are only mine, not ours. The only happiness I dare bring with me into this terrifying new life is one of his shirts. 

Finally, I turn back toward our little, unremarkable house, and stick a note to the porch banister. Hopefully the scrap of paper isn’t ruined by the time he dares to venture outside.

Suddenly, the weight on my chest is unbearable and tears begin to fall. I look into the rearview mirror, hoping he’ll follow me, but all that’s there is an empty porch and a cloud of dust.

I have to look forward, so I do. Mourning everything I have sacrificed, I can only pray that someday soon I can return to our home, our life together.

But now, it’s goodbye.


	2. Shiksa Goddess

“Hey mister, I’m all out!” 

I drop my hands from the bat and set them on Scully’s waist, turning her to face me. 

“Mulder.” She’s smirking up at me, clearly noticing that the bat’s not the only piece of ash around here anymore.

“Hm?”

She smiles seductively before standing up on her toes and slowly whispering in my ear, “I think you have to pay the kid.”

She sinks back down to her normal level, and manages to look very proud of herself, only before she shrieks with laughter as I tickle her sides.

Reluctantly, I pull away from my now very giggly partner, and head towards the ball boy.

The brat’s smirking, clearly knowing what’s going on here. “You know, for an extra $10, I can get outta here right now and pick up the balls in the morning.”

I study him for a moment before handing him the extra cash. “Fine, but don’t get any ideas.”

He leans around me to look at Scully before winking at me and running off into the night.

I turn and see my partner leaning against the fence, with one heel hooked up around the wire, gazing at me through hooded eyes. We walk towards each other until we meet in the middle. 

Taking a deep breath, I lean down and lightly press my lips to hers. I feel her grin before she pulls away.

We take a second to study each other, acknowledging the weight of the moment, before I wrap my arm around her shoulders and lead her back to our parked cars.

“So was this a date, Mulder?”

“I guess you could say that,” I reply. “Why, do you want a do-over?”

“No. But I wouldn’t mind a round two.” She lifts an eyebrow, turning to face me. I lean towards her, forcing her to lean against her car.

“Who said round one was over?” I put my hands low on her hips and pull her into another kiss. This time it’s more promising as she opens her lips and allows me to taste her. I grip her tight and pull her to me as she winds her arms around my neck. Her fingers grab my hair. I grab her ass. She turns slightly and moans as I work my way down her neck.

“Scully...let me take you home,” I murmur before biting her earlobe. “I don’t want this to end here.”

“Mm...tell me something first.” She pulls away from my grasp and looks down, suddenly a bit shy. “How long…”

“Have I wanted this? Have I loved you?” She startles, her eyes grow wide as she looks up at me.

“Yes,” she breathes.

I sigh, staring into her eyes. “Scully. The minute I first met you, I could barely catch my breath. Since then, I’ve realized that I don’t need to breathe if you’re with me.”

Her eyes water and she smiles. Overcome, she lightly kisses me. Against my lips, I feel more than hear her say, “Alright, you sap. Take me home.”


	3. See I'm Smiling

I’m halfway back from my run when I remember the date. 

Oh God.

How could I have forgotten?

I choke out a sob and slow to a walk before collapsing onto my knees. God, it hurts. How can it still hurt this way?

He’s 10 years old today. It’s been a decade since I was given my miracle. Almost a decade since I abandoned him.

Anguish overwhelms my senses, and I barely register that somehow I get up and walk to the porch. Sitting on the steps, I look down and see my knees are dripping with blood.

My mind can only concentrate on one thing: William.

10 years old. He’s in third grade now. He has a favorite book, a best friend, maybe even a schoolyard crush. I try to picture him - he’s probably gangly like Mulder, they might even have the same coloring. God, I hope he has those eyes. Green and grey and swirling like the stars. 

There are so many things I will never know.

He has a mother, and a father. But his mother is not me, his father is not Mulder.

“Scully?” Mulder’s voice, somehow more monotone than usual, echoes through the house. I’m surprised he noticed I was gone. Maybe he remembered the date.

With a twinge of hope, I speak up. “On the porch.” 

“Oh. Okay.” I hear him open the fridge, grab a beer, and slam the door to his office.

Of course. He can’t even pull himself together for our son’s birthday. Anger mixes with sorrow as I march into the kitchen, determined to not let him get to me. Not today.

I’m viciously rubbing at my scraped knees with a wet towel when he stumbles back into the kitchen.

He barely sounds surprised when he asks, “What happened to you?” 

“I fell on my run. It’s fine.”

His eyes squint, like he’s missing something. My eyes begin to well again with the pain of my wounds, the emotional more than the physical.

He doesn’t respond. 

My tears begin to fall. “Why are you in here, Mulder? Don’t you have conspiracies to be digging into? Truth to be found or whatever bullshit it is now?”

“I...forgot the bottle opener.”

Mulder walks towards me and, without even looking at my face, he opens the drawer and pulls out the opener. He turns away, heading back toward his den.

Before he can escape, I ask, “Do you even know what day it is?”

He turns around, but there’s no emotion on his face. “No. Should I?”

At that, I fully lose it. My chest heaves and my face is covered in a salty mix of sweat and tears. He does nothing. Says nothing.

My voice breaks as I whisper, “I swear to God, I’ll never understand how you can stand there straight and tall and see I’m crying. And not do anything at all.”

My touchstone and partner is gone. He left me here with this apathetic, drunk mess of a person. I know I shouldn’t hate him. But I do. Almost as much as I love him.

His eyebrows turn down, as if he knows he should be ashamed. But instead of holding me, loving me, comforting me, he turns and walks away.


End file.
